


Clicheville: Perfect Day

by Dryad



Series: Clicheville [2]
Category: The X files
Genre: Angst-lite, F/M, NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Were they blind or merely stupid?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clicheville: Perfect Day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Alas, alack, they are not mine. Yadda cubed.
> 
> Title: Clicheville: Perfect Day  
> Author: Dryad  
> Rating: NC17, MSR  
> Spoilers: FTF, 'Tithonus', 'Small Potatoes', 'Millenium'  
> Season: Nothing after 'Je Souhaite' (7X)  
> Archive: Yes please. A note where would be nice.  
> Summary: "Were they blind or merely stupid?"  
> Feedback: Be brutal. You know you want to.
> 
> This was originally published in 2000.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MARTIN - We've got Mary!  
BOXER - What?  
LT. DREBIN - You're bluffing!  
MARTIN - Oh, yeah?  
BOXER - Mary's scarf!  
DREBIN - He could have gotten that anywhere.  
MARTIN - How 'bout this?  
BOXER - Mary's purse!  
DREBIN - There are millions of purses like that.  
MARTIN - How 'bout this?  
BOXER - Mary's toaster!  
DREBIN - Oh my God!

Police Squad!  
1X2 Ring Of Fear (A Dangerous Assignment)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Close to noon on a dreary Friday, she'd been staring at the front  
window display and grinning at her reflection when he answered the  
phone.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me."

"Hey, what's up?"

"I just came across something I think you'd really like," she'd said,  
tapping on the glass to get the salesman's attention.

"A case of spontaneous combustion? A real live jackalope?"

Pointing to the item she wanted, she nodded eagerly and gestured at  
her phone. "Forget whatever you're doing at work and join me for  
lunch? My treat?"

"Special Agent Dana Scully, are you asking me to play hooky?"

"Mulder, it's a public holiday, you don't even have to be at the office  
today."

"It's local, Scully, not Federal."

"And. . .?"

"Y'know, you have a good point. I'll be there with bells on."

And they had spent the day together, leading one another to favorite  
places, shopping at previously unknown holes in the walls,  
discovering her hitherto secret addiction to Beanie Baby sea creatures  
and his penchance for antique stores and first edition books about the  
Negro Leagues.

Walking back to his car, she said, "What are we having for dinner, and  
don't say pizza."

"Hell, I don't know," he said, unlocking the doors. "You feel like making  
anything?"

Scully wrinkled her nose, tucked the end of her trenchcoat under her  
leg and closed the door. "We'd have to go shopping first."

"I have a vague recollection of doing that."

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away?"

Mulder flashed her a grin and she smiled back.

Grocery shopping with Mulder turned out to be very entertaining.  
After much discussion in the fruit and vegetable aisle – where Mulder  
did rude things with carrots and radishes - they decided on pasta  
primavera and grilled chicken for their evening meal, with salad and  
whatever he wanted for dessert. Scully had to admit she was looking  
forward to spending more time with him. It wasn't something which  
happened very often, although it seemed to her they had both made  
concerted efforts after Eddie van Blundht passed through their lives.

She nipped down the cookie aisle, snagged a package each of Nutter  
Butters and cinnamon Graham Crackers, rejoined Mulder just as he  
was putting a plastic covered cake into the cart. It was coated with  
lime green icing and had HAPPY BIRTHDAY written in the top. She  
glanced up, ready to comment, when the devilish gleam in his eyes  
grabbed her. Shaking her head, she sternly told her responsible side  
to go take a flying leap. She couldn't ignore the large box of Cracker  
Jack which had appeared during her brief absence, as it promised to  
contain at least two toys. Hopefully they were good toys.

Finally their mission was accomplished, although not without its  
moments, espcially after one woman threatened to go 'medieval' on  
Scully's ass after she grabbed the last bottle of Hershey's Chocolate  
Syrup off the shelf.

Mulder had leaned close and whispered, "I'll be your witness if you  
feel the need to pull your weapon."

She elbowed him back, lips quirked despite her best intentions to  
remain stoic and unamused.

Later on, they'd actually cooked, eaten, and cleaned together, splitting  
one and a half bottles of wine between them. Scully was pleasantly  
relaxed and full when she remembered why she'd called him in the  
first place. She detoured to the closet to grab the paper bag from her  
coat pocket, then joined Mulder was on the couch. Plopping down  
beside him, she put the bag on his thigh and snuck a forkful of cake –  
which turned out to be chocolate fudge – from his plate while he was  
distracted.

"Oo," he said, tearing into the bag. "Should I beware a Scully bearing  
gifts?"

"Mm," she mumbled, mouth too full to answer. Sugar, she decided,  
definitely had a place in life, especially when it was coupled with  
chocolate and sinfully moist cake.

"The Compleat Police Squad on dvd? Scully, this is fantastic!"

She idly studied his profile while he read the blurbs on the back of the  
box. There were a couple more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and  
not enough laugh lines at the corners of his mouth. Stubble ran  
roughshod over his chin and cheeks. He really was an astoundingly  
beautiful man, all the more so for the sharpness of his mind and the  
grace of his movement, which she rarely allowed herself to  
acknowledge, fearful of her own less than professional response.

He looked at her. "Thanks, this is way cool."

"You're welcome."

"Shall I put it in?"

"If you like."

"Not exactly a resounding endorsement of the idea, Scully, and stop  
eating my cake."

She glanced down in surprise to find the plate covered in nothing but  
crumbs. "Oops – "

"I s'pose I should be getting home, anyway," he said with a yawn.

"Mulder, it's only nine and so far we've got a free weekend."

"You don't have anything to do tomorrow?"

Scully shook her head. "Nope. I was going to splurge and have a lazy  
day – no medical journals, no cleaning, no leaving the house. In fact,  
I'm not even going to the post office to mail the paper I've been  
working on for the past two months."

"You wild woman, you."

"There's no reason to go home early, is all I'm saying."

"All right," he said, getting up and putting the dvd in the player. "But  
you can't say you weren't warned. Haven't you ever seen this before?"

"Nope."

He held up an admonishing finger. "You don't know what you've  
missed. Now just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

Three hours on she was wiping tears from her cheeks with one hand,  
clasping her aching stomach with the other. "God, I haven't laughed  
that hard in a really long time."

He grinned and stood up, headed towards the bathroom. He called  
over his shoulder, "I knew you'd love it."

Scully found all the remotes and turned everything off, stretched. She  
felt the soil of around the potted Banana tree, the Wandering Jew  
hanging by the window and the little Palm Mikka had given her last  
Easter. They were all right, not too dry, not too damp. Certainly  
better off than Mulder's fish. The truth was that she still felt guilty  
when plants died instead of animals, which was why she had chosen  
not to get another dog after Queequeg. She still missed the little  
bugger.

Mulder reappeared and strode into the living room to get his glass. He  
swallowed the remainder of his wine and brought the glass into the  
kitchen, gave it a rinse and left it in the sink. "I had fun today, Scully."

"Me too," she said, abruptly overwhelmed with love for the man.  
After a long moment she stepped closer and wrapped her arms  
around him. His surprise was obvious, but he returned her hug after  
only a brief hesitation. "Thank you, Mulder."

His voice was dry and scratchy when he replied. "For what?"

"For being you," she said, her ear firmly pressed against his chest. His  
heartbeat was steady, the rush of air in and out of his lungs soothing  
in the extreme. She clung to him even more tightly, reveling in the feel  
of a hard, masculine body against her own. Once again he hesitated,  
then slowly rubbed her back, once, twice, a third time before coming  
to a halt. God, she missed this. Such a simple thing, one she didn't  
often think about on a day to day basis. Every now and then, though,  
alone in some fleabitten hotel room or sitting next to strangers at the  
occasional forensics conference she attended, every now and then she  
missed being touched and loved with an angry intensity which never  
failed to surprise her. She was a strong woman, yet even the strong  
needed to be weak sometimes. He allowed her space to be weak which  
she hated to admit was more often than she liked to appear. He tried  
to move, probably thinking she didn't want to be in contact for too  
long, but she tightened her grip, refused to let him go. It was nice,  
standing here.

Soon enough Scully drew away from Mulder slightly, looked into his  
eyes. There was the tiniest crease in his forehead, which would  
probably be unremarkable on anyone else, yet spoke volumes to her.  
"I'm fine, Mulder."

He nodded slowly. "I know. I'm just. . ."

Scully brought her hand up and played with the short ends of his hair  
at the nape of his neck. Had his lips ever been so plump and luscious?  
"Why don't you go and get ready for bed. I've got a few things to clean  
up and then I'll join you."

As usual, it was his eyes which gave away what he was feeling. She  
didn't think she'd ever seen eyes so mutable, changing almost as often  
as those stupid mood rings she and Missy used to wear when they  
were kids. Angry grey to moss green to gold flecked hazel, but now  
they were a deep, warm brown, a color she'd seen only a few times  
before. In the hallway outside of his apartment. In the hospital. Lots  
of times in lots of hospitals, come to think of it. Appropriately enough,  
it had been their New Year's kiss which had changed the world for  
her. His lips had descended upon her own and she'd closed her eyes at  
the last millisecond. When they'd drawn apart, she'd seen the truth in  
his gaze and known he was seeing the same in her own.

It was a truth to be nurtured and developed before they took it any  
further, and being the people they were, a few more brushes with  
death to force their hands. And today had been a perfect day, one she  
didn't yet want to end.

Drawing his head down, she kissed him chastely, a light brush of her  
lips against his own. There wasn't anything for her to do, she'd really  
just wanted to give him time to...adjust to her somewhat spontaneous  
invitation. And if it all proved to be too much for the two of them to  
handle, then at the very least she would have this memory to savor.  
He nodded again, mouth slightly open as if he were going to speak,  
then headed towards the bedroom.

Minutes later the kitchen was clean, wine glasses washed and dried,  
counters wiped down, coffee maker ready and timed, when she  
decided she was ready to face what the consequences of her actions.

Mulder was sitting up in her bed when she entered the room to get her  
champagne pj's, glasses perched on his nose, covers drawn up to his  
bare waist. He was reading Philbrick's In the Heart of the Sea,  
although she could tell he hadn't gotten past the frontispiece. Sweet,  
he'd even hung his suit, oxford and undershirt over the back of the  
vanity chair. She gave him a brief smile before heading to the  
bathroom to wash up.

How silly was this, changing in the bathroom when the man she was  
going to sleep with was in the next room and would be seeing her  
naked soon anyway? Had already seen her naked, several times, in  
fact? God, she'd been less nervous the day she'd lost her virginity. 'It's  
only Mulder' kept running through her mind, making her increasingly  
astonished at her forwardness. Only Mulder. Only her partner. Only  
the one person she trusted beyond all logical reason.

But she wanted this, and was determined to have it.

Once back in the bedroom, she slid under the comforter and sheets,  
snuggled up next to him. After a minute she ducked underneath his  
arm, the one holding up the book, and laid her head upon his bare  
chest. At first touch his skin was cool, rapidly warming againt her  
cheek. He smelled faintly of deodorant and sweat and bay rum  
aftershave, yet overriding all was his own scent, essence of male and  
that something uniquely Mulder. His cinnamint scented breath  
tickled her forehead.

Scully explored the sparse hair on his chest, thin, wiry, bitter  
chocolate in color, thumbing his nipples until they stood stiff and  
flushed a darker pinky-brown. He was nicely muscular, bicep flexing  
as he reached over to turn a page, in a way which suited his lanky  
frame. She liked the softness of his belly and the tender skin along his  
side, the cage of his ribs and shoreline of his clavicle to the hollow of  
his throat. Strong shoulders carried the weight of history like Atlas,  
like Sisyphus rolling the stone up the mountain. Or maybe she was  
Sisyphus, struggling to keep her own beliefs in the face of sometimes  
overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Her hand drifted over his torso and beneath the blankets, encountered  
the flat plain of his pelvis and the nubbled ridge of his flannel boxers'  
waistband. Lower still along his thigh, ignoring the twitching  
hardness under her wrist, his sudden inhalation. She deliberately  
prolonged the inevitable, teasing his inner thighs with her nails,  
wondering if he felt as languid and ripe as she did. She grasped his  
erection through the fabric and stroked him, measuring length and  
width with the palm of her hand, the sudden flare which narrowed to  
a supersensitive point.

Mm, erections were good things. Scully definitely approved. She  
stroked him a few more times, until his restlessness made her restless  
in turn. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do first. Sliding down  
and taking the hot silkiness of him in her mouth was one option, as  
was climbing on top, yet both were too...one sided, too selfish.  
Leaving his sex alone, she hugged him tightly, stretched to kiss and  
lick the base of his neck.

He shifted then, moved down until they were lying side by side. He  
trailed his fingers over her face and then, so slowly she didn't even  
realize what he was doing, manouvered her until she was flat on her  
back. With one hand he unbuttoned her pyjama top, occasionally  
stopping to palm one breast and then the other through the satin,  
staring into her eyes when she could keep them open.

Mulder abruptly threw the covers back, exposing both their bodies to  
the soft light and the cool air of her bedroom. Scully wasn't sure what  
he saw as he examined her over from head to toe. She saw high,  
girlish breasts, a nearly flat stomach marred by an ugly splotch of  
skin melted and corrupted by a bullet, well-toned legs with thighs a  
little too heavy, calves a little too round for her short frame, toenails  
painted Rouge-Noir she'd bought on a whim the last time she'd gone  
shopping with her mother. But she couldn't tell from his frown if he  
approved or not. She felt inexplicably shy, too removed from her own  
confidence to do anything besides lay there like a limp rag.

He put one warm hand on her belly, took his time stroking her side  
underneath the satin until he had reached her neck again. She spied  
something in his gaze she couldn't quite define, dark and smoky and  
tinged with sadness, or maybe it was regret? Did he want to go back  
in time, forget she had ever broken their unspoken pact of ignoring  
each other's sexuality? He looked up and regarded her quietly.

Oh.

He wanted to take it all away.

Mulder scooted to her feet and tugged on her pyjama bottoms. She  
acquiesced and obediently pushed them down to her knees, raised her  
feet so he could pull them off and toss them aside. Was he going to...?

Her silent question was answered as he took hold of her ankles and  
gently spread her legs. Oh god. Heart racing, Scully couldn't decide  
whether or not she should look at him or stare at the ceiling. What  
was it women did in these situations? Her period had been over for a  
couple of days, and she'd washed in the bathroom, so at least she was  
clean. She hated feeling inadequate and inexperienced. Yet, smelling  
her own arousal, she also felt vaguely guilty, as if she were making  
him do something he didn't want to do, which was stupid,  
considering his predilection for porn and the two women she knew  
he'd slept with.

Nonetheless she wanted -

He did all the things she'd heard about. He pressed his lips to the soles  
of her feet, tasted the inner curves of her knees, massaged the backs of  
her thighs and the creases where buttock met leg. Regardless, she  
wasn't prepared.

"Oh my god – " Scully moaned, arching against the bed.

Rough, cool, wet velvet. Sensation far removed from those of her own  
fingers and the horrible plastic of the dildo she'd once tried in college.  
Stubble pricked her skin and provided a counterpoint to the smooth  
heat of his tongue.

Why hadn't anyone told her it would be like this? Missy had only  
rolled her eyes and shaken her head at her fifteen year old sister's  
questions, had told her it felt good and that she would experience it  
sooner rather than later. In the end, to save herself the  
embarrassment, she'd stopped asking and pretended she'd known  
what Missy and Ellen and all her old childhood girlfriends were  
talking about.

She flailed, reaching for something, anything to hold on to. The  
headboard was smooth and despite her ability to reach the top, too  
awkward to grasp. The fitted sheet was too tight, the pillows moved,  
and finally the only thing left was herself or Mulder's dark hair, and  
god knew she didn't want to do anything to make him stop. She  
settled on cupping and squeezing her aching breasts, rolling her  
nipples between her fingers, dimly aware of the sounds she was  
making and for once not caring one whit.

"God – god – Mulder – " Scully forgot to be ashamed and started  
circling her hips to get his lips and tongue on the right places. Sweet  
pulses flipped and turned constant as he caught on and switched  
tactics, capturing the perfect spot.

Pleasure quickly cramped her belly and she involuntarily  
straightened her trembling legs, toes pointing towards the end of the  
bed. A wordless howl rose from the depths of her lungs, rising in  
volume and pitch as if she were singing out hallelujah's in a Baptist  
church.

Afterwards, Scully moistened her lips as Mulder moved up her body,  
propping himself up with his elbows on either side of her, hard and  
hot and and almost where she wanted him to be. When the hell had  
he removed his boxers? On second thought, who cared? She squeaked  
a little when he rubbed his erection against her wet center.

"You okay, Scully?"

She nodded and grabbed his head, kissing him firmly, tasting herself  
in his mouth, on his skin.

"I didn't quite expect such a response. I guess that's one thing we can  
strike off the list of things to do in the office," he said with a smug  
smile.

Scully rolled her eyes. It wasn't fair that he could reduce her to a  
quivering mess before she had a chance to do the same. And she'd  
never been so loud in her life.

Blowing air onto her flushed face, she turned her head away from his  
earnest gaze. After a moment she glanced back at him, then fixed her  
eyes on the fingers lightly working her breasts. "I – Mulder - god, I  
can't believe I'm going to tell you this."

"Tell me what?" he asked before taking one stiff nipple between his  
lips.

"Mm, don't forget the other one. I've never, um, no one's ever done  
that for me – Jesus - to me, before."

He looked at her quizzically, released her nipple with an audible  
smack. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately."

"Were they blind or merely stupid?" he frowned and blinked as  
another thought occurred. "You did want them to, right?"

"Are you kidding?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Christ, Mulder, I'm a  
modern woman. I just seem to have had abysmally poor taste in  
lovers."

"Yeah, I'll say," he said slowly, obviously still pondering this new  
information. "Not even your last boyfriend...not even Jack?"

"Jack had control issues. And Ethan was so vanilla he made the  
missionary position sound kinky," Scully pursed her lips and shook  
her head again. "He didn't even want me to go down on him, can you  
believe that?"

Mulder snorted and swiveled his hips again.

"Mm, yes – " She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and said,  
slyly, "I presume that's not an issue for you."

Wisely, he chose not to answer. Reaching down, she grabbed his ass  
and pulled him forward. "Mul-der, it isn't nice to keep a lady waiting."

He raised both eyebrows. "You're a lady?"

"Shut up – " she began, losing her voice as he sank into her.

She loved watching him concentrate, expression fixed as he fought to  
keep things slow and steady – holding out for her, maybe? Scully idly  
wondered what he was going to do when she told him she never came  
from intercourse alone. Oh, lord, she'd mention it when she could  
think again.

Bringing one hand up from his back, she gently pushed on his chest  
until he was supporting most of his weight on his hands. She slid that  
hand down his torso to where they were joined, watched his wide  
eyes track down as she spread her lower lips wide.

"Fuck – " he muttered, unconsciously speeding up.

His spoken profanity hit her in the gut and she began to manipulate  
herself, touching him ever so often as well. Unlike Ethan, who'd once  
accused her of simply masturbating with him inside of her, Mulder  
certainly found it a turn on. So did she. He stopped briefly to catch  
and match her pace, thrusting every time she pushed down with her  
fingers, hitting her just right and tripling the sensations.

Sharp sweetness screamed along the base of her spine, skittering along  
her skin and raising the hair on her arms. She was reduced to  
chanting his name, unable to do anything besides squeeze his ass with  
her free hand and writhe beneath him. Finally she tilted her pelvis  
down to get more contact, crying out first in pleasure, then in  
frustration as Mulder froze in his climax. She jerked her hips up  
furiously, trying not to lose what she had worked so hard to gain.  
Miraculously Mulder came to her aid once more with a few desultory  
thrusts that were just enough to tip her over the edge.

Sated and sleepy, higher brain function returned to Scully fairly  
slowly. She lay still as Mulder moved to one side, unwilling to  
summon the energy to do anything other than breathe and cool down.  
Which would be a lot easier if she weren't still wearing the damned  
pyjama top. With a grunt, she sat up and removed it, tossed it onto  
the floor.

"Get on with your bad self, Scully."

Her half-smile turned into a huge yawn and she flopped back  
loose limbed. She grinned and said, "Cigarette?"

"Yes, it is," Mulder replied, voice becoming high pitched. "I heard  
police work is dangerous."

"What?"

"It is. That's why I carry a big gun."

"Mulder?" Scully rolled over on her side and stared at him.

"Aren't you afraid it's going to go off accidentally?" His voice dropped  
again, low and husky. "I used to have that problem."

Freud would have a field day. Hell, he'd have a summer vacation.

"What did you do about it?" He looked over at her, obviously trying  
not to crack up, "I just think about baseball."

"Okay Champ, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Mulder blearily raised his head off the pillow, eyes crossed.  
"...Thursday..."

"Who are you and how did you get here?" Scully asked with a giggle.  
"I'm a locksmith. . ."

". . .And I'm a locksmith!" Mulder answered in tandem as they both  
broke into laughter.

"I don't know why I find it so damned funny," she said. "What was the  
first bit from?"

"The Naked Gun movies. Don't tell me - you haven't seen those either."

"Mulder, I didn't have time for movies back then," She reached for the  
comforter and sheets. "But I know you have them on video."

He turned onto his side and faced her, brushed her hair off of her neck.  
"Aren't you going to turn off the lights?"

"You've got longer arms," she murmured through another yawn.

"But I've worked so hard – "

Scully eyed him.

He preened, buffing his nails against his chest. "I'll turn off the lights if  
you get me a glass of water."

"The things I do for you," she groaned, getting up anyway. One glass  
of water later she was back in bed, covers up to her shoulders, curled  
up against his chest, one arm wrapped around him. A thousand  
butterflies took residence in her stomach as she pondered the wisdom  
of speaking. Screw it. Wasn't anything he didn't already know. "Hey  
Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He didn't immediately reply. Then he chuckled dryly. "I know. I love  
you, too."

She felt a little silly, but she was glad she'd said the words.

"Hey Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"I'll make dinner tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Okay, I took a one note idea and ran with it – and we all know how unlikely it is that no one would have gone down on Scully in this day and age. I also promised myself they'd never sat those three little words to one another – but I caved. 
> 
>  
> 
> Quotes:
> 
> From 'Police Squad!'  
> 1X1 A Substantial Gift (The Broken Promise)  
> (Drebin offers Jill a cigarette)   
> DREBIN - Cigarette?   
> JILL - Yes it is. 
> 
> From 'Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!'  
> JANE SPENCER: I've heard police work is dangerous.  
> FRANK DREBIN: It is. That's why I carry a big gun.  
> JANE SPENCER: Aren't you afraid it might go off accidentally?  
> FRANK DREBIN: I used to have that problem.  
> JANE SPENCER: What did you do about it?  
> FRANK DREBIN: I just think about baseball.
> 
> From 'Police Squad!'  
> 1X2 Ring Of Fear (A Dangerous Assignment)  
> MANAGER: Champ, how many fingers am I holding up?  
> BOXER: . . . Thursday. . .
> 
> From 'Police Squad!'  
> 1X3?? The Butler Did It (A Bird in the Hand)  
> DREBIN - Who are you and how did you get in here?   
> VILLAIN - I'm a locksmith, and, I'm a locksmith!


End file.
